


Seeping Through the Cracks

by orangeCrates



Series: What It Means to Be Warm [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeCrates/pseuds/orangeCrates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miscellaneous scenes set in the same universe as <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2458067">Thawing Out</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quiet Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the end of "Thawing Out", some time after Malik goes to live with Altair.

It was far too late for anyone to be awake, as evidenced by the completely awful programming being shown at this hour.

But getting up and returning to his own, comfortable bed did not seem as attractive as staying right where he was on the couch, with Malik sitting pressed against his side and their legs tangled together.

So Altair doesn't bother to move except to adjust the throw blanket they'd covered themselves with when Malik shuffled closer, causing it to slip down.

The cold had always bothered Malik and it has only gotten worse since they arrived in this place.

It is why Malik sits so close, why he had slung his legs over Altair's when he had dropped onto the couch. It is for warmth: nothing more. Altair is careful to remind himself of all this.

"This is terrible." Malik complains around a yawn.

The space underneath the blanket is warm with Malik now close enough that their hands brushed against each other (the flesh one because Malik is always conciously keeping the metal arm away). Altair wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of the night, but Malik is already drifting off.

It is with reluctance that he turns his head to say, "It is late."

Malik's eyes, which had been drooping, snapped open with sudden, stubborn awareness. He frowns at Altair.

"It's not that late."

"It is nearly," he glances at the time with a wry grin, "three in the morning, Malik."

"I do not want to sleep yet."

It is clearly a lie, but instead of calling him out on it, Altair only shifts his hand and curls his fingers so they brush over Malik's palm. He jerks at the sudden contact, but apart from frowning at Altair makes no move to actually stop him. Altair draws on his palm as the television neither of them were really watching cast them in a flickering light. He wonders, briefly, what would happen if he wrote all his secrets like this, Letter by letter, one over the other. Would Malik know? (Would he care?) In the end, he only continues drawing nonsense patterns, only stopping when Malik sags against him, his head leaning against Altair's shoulder.

He listens to Malik's breathing, deep and even in sleep for a moment. When he is sure it would not wake him, Altair closes his eyes and turns his head to press a kiss to the top of Malik's head. He threads their fingers together and thinks that it is harder to pretend, in moments like these, that he didn't want more than this.


	2. Lost Lovers

In the beginning, he hadn't known his own name. He was aware in some hazy, distant way that he was supposed to have one, but he could not remember it.

He knew who Altair's namewhen he woke up even though he hadn't known why he was chained to the hospital bed or why it mattered.

But it did matter and he felt safer, more sure when he was allowed the chance the actually reach up and touch Altair's face, to pull him close and bury his face in the crook of Altair's neck.

~ + ~

Regaining his memories had felt like drowning. It was like trying to reach the surface only to be dragged down over and over again. It felt as if every bit of progress he made towards sea level only revealed to him how low he'd fallen.

He woke up some days with nightmares haunting his steps and it was only Altair's arms around him that stopped them from following him into awakeness.

But some times the dreams were pleasant. Like:

_Warm afternoon light filter in from the window. The speckles of rising light paint patterns on the floor and bed and Malik sighed as lips kiss the back of his neck, moved to nuzzle against the shell of his ear and said...something. He couldn't hear--couldn't remember--but it made the memory-him smile and turn over--_

After a few such dreams, he came to the conclusion that he must have had a lover in the past. Malik thought about asking Altair about them. But he had some notion that the relationship had been a secret and Altair was always upset and guilty when Malik asked him a quesiton he could not answer.

~ + ~

He felt guilty for falling in love with Altair. It felt like a betrayal of his friendship with Maria and like he was turning his back on the lover he had had centuries ago.

In the early days Malik thought, if he had any integrity left, he would not allow these feelings to grow.

But weeks went on and the world kept turning.

He was staring at his breakfast in Altair's apartment when it occurred to him that they were all dead. Had been for a long time.

In all the years in service of the Templars, Malik had not thought to grieve, having not actually had many thoughts in his head at all and during his recovery there had been too many of them crowding in his head to make space for grief.

Here, settled in Altair's apartment, with a job in the Order, clothes on his back and eggs on his plate there was just enough _peace_ in him to allow for grief.

Altair was alarmed to find him with a hand over his eyes and his shoulders shaking (thought something else might be wrong up until Malik buries his face in Altair's shirt and _cried_ ).

~ + ~

It was a few more weeks until Malik found himself kissing Altair on the balcony. There was no hesitation at all, no _reason_ for it when Altair smiled at him like they were alone in the world (not when he didn't want to waste this second chance he'd been given to live).

~ + ~

It was funny to him, after, that he had hesitated to love Altair because he had loved Altair in the past.

"You did not even remember my face." Altair accused him while they both lay naked beneath the sheets, one hand reaching up to trace Malik's collarbone.

"How could I forget your face?" Malik laughed, "I just forgot the face of my lover. And the fact that the two of you are one and the same."

"Is that any better?"

Malik leaned over to kiss him, "does it matter?"

Altair rolled them over so Malik was under him, felt the sheets slide down his back when their position changed. He looked thoughtful (distracted when Malik ran a hand through his hair, his smile telling Altair that he knew exactly what effect it had on him), before he said, "I suppose not."

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished I had a feeling of: HOW DID IT TAKE YOU TWO SO LONG TO GET TOGETHER IN THIS AU???


End file.
